Save Me

I followed Tryce down the stairs of his beautiful house, mentally kicking myself every time my mind flashed back to the image of him in nothing but his towel. My eyes raked over his muscled back, and though it was clothed in a flannel button up shirt, it clung to his body that made his muscles look beyond delicious. My best friend – past best friend – is really something worth looking at.

Tryce motioned to which seat I would be sitting in and I smiled when I realized that I’d be occupying the seat located to the right of his own. He seems to be the only person that I find calming and good enough to talk to these days. I watched as everyone filed in, Tryce’s parents sitting at the very ends of the table as my father and his gold digger took the seats across from Tryce and I. I smiled as I realized that Tryce’s parents haven’t changed a bit, still the super caring and happy people that I remember them to be, the type of parent’s that everyone would want. I was so caught up in the moment that I didn’t even realize Jensen wasn’t here, but I did scowl a bit when Tryce’s sister sat next to me, batting her eyelashes flirtatiously. I never did like Carlie. She was always that annoying younger girl that tried to hang with us, but now she’s that annoying younger girl that seems like she wants to get in my pants. Great… just great…

I look up when I heard my name being called by Tryce’s mother and I smiled at her warmly in response to her motherly smile. You know, one of those smiles that mother’s always have that are just truly infectious.

“Morgan,” she said warmly, passing her bowl of mashed potatoes around the table so that everyone could take what they pleased. “You’ve grown up so much,” she continued. “But you’re just as good looking as ever.”

“Thank you,” I said politely, spooning some more food onto my plate before taking a bite, smiling appreciatively at her to tell her that her cooking was and always will be delicious.

“So, son,” Tryce’s dad muttered, catching my attention. He used to always refer to me as if I were one of his own since we were all relatively inseparable. “What have you been up to for the last nine years?” He inquired around a bite of his wife’s mashed potatoes.

I waited until I was done chewing my food before I responded, wanting to be polite for the family that will always be important to me. “I’ve been playing football,” I said around a smile. “I made captain this year,” I continued, a proud lilt working its way into my tone.

“You’ve always loved football,” Tryce mused from besides me, elbowing me playfully as if to tell me that he was happy for me.

“I love football!” Carlie said excitedly, leaning over the armrest of her chair to get closer to me, an obnoxious smile on her cherry red lips. God, when did the innocently annoying girl I once knew turn into a slut whose lips are just way too red? “You should, like, play with us sometime,” she suggested, though I could have sworn there was a double meaning in her words by the way her voice dropped a bit lower.

I didn’t know how to respond to that so I just turned away from her and continued eating my food, slowly scooting my chair closer towards Tryce’s inch by inch. I’m receiving a bad vibe from Carlie at the moment. Tryce cleared his throat awkwardly from beside me, trying to speak and get rid of the awkward silence that has now enveloped the room.

“So…” Tryce’s mother spoke again, trying to redirect the attention away from the fact that her daughter seems to be creeping on her son’s best friend from childhood. “What brings you back to Florida after so many years, Morgan?”

“Oh, it’s sort of a personal reason that Morgan doesn’t like to talk about,” My dad cut in before I could say anything. My body tensed as I heard the words spew from his lips, a scowl making its way onto my own, prompting Tryce to squeeze my knee as if to attempt to calm me down for unknown reasons. Sure, I don’t want to talk about it, but how dare he try to stop something that knows will make him look bad. The fucking dumbass…

“Actually,” I cut in, a bit of bite in my tone now. “I came back to Florida because my mother has breast cancer,” I explained, glaring daggers at the man who ruined my life.

“Is she okay?” Mrs. Reagan asked worriedly, her mind probably wandering back to the days that my mother was her best friend.

I sighed, my hand fisting my fork as my knuckles turned white, my scowl quickly being replaced by a frown that seems to always find a way to occupy my lips one way or another. “No, she’s gonna be gone by the end of the summer,” I muttered just loud enough for everyone to hear.

A soft round of worried gasps made their way around Tryce’s family though Patricia and my father just seemed to be deathly still in their seats.

“She was such a nice woman,” Mrs. Reagan muttered after a while, breaking the silence that had enveloped the room.

“Yeah, she doesn’t deserve to die.” I whispered.

“But aren’t there cures?” She inquired softly, her hand over her mouth as she clutched the napkin in her lap tightly.

“They were too expensive for our family,” I muttered, frowning even more when I saw her eyes starting to glisten. “However,” I muttered, turning back to my dad. “We could have saved her if my dad actually paid attention to his ex-wife instead of worrying about fucking his new home wrecker and getting her pregnant.” My voice rose as I continued speaking, it eventually turning into an angry snarl.

“You’ve spent the last nine years of your life ignoring me!” He shot back, his eyes bulging slightly at the fact that I basically just told everyone that he’s an asshole.

“I’ve ignored you because you ruined both mom and my own life by fucking the whore sitting next to you while you were still married!” I shot back. “And look at her! She’s pregnant now and she’s calling you her husband. What a sick man! She’s almost half your age!”

“Don’t pin all of this on me,” Patricia said, staring at me with a deathly calm look in her eyes as her hands rested on the huge bump that is her stomach.

“Why not?” I questioned, completely forgetting about the audience in the room. In my mind, the only people in this room were Patricia, the man that I am forced to call my father, and myself. “You knew he was married and you fucked him anyway because he was rich! If none of that happened, my family would still be together. I wouldn’t have had to move to Texas either and my mom wouldn’t be on the verge of dying! You’re nothing but a home-wrecking whore!”

“I told you not to call her that!” My dad yelled, his face turning a dangerous shade of red as his face came down hard on the table, rattling every piece of silverware on the table.

“What do you want me to call her then? She’s not a mother to me! I call ‘em like I see them! She is a whore!” I said slowly, putting extra emphasize on each word. “And you are a cheating man-whore that doesn’t deserve half of the shit he gets! You didn’t even want to have me in your home and mom had to beg you to get me here so I wouldn’t watch her die! What kind of father are you?!”

“Enough!” Mister Reagan screamed, standing up and knocking the table slightly, snapping us all back in reality. He looked towards Patricia and my Dad, disbelief and anger both evident on his features as his eyes swirled with an unlimited amount of emotions.

My Dad stood up, his face now turning red out of embarrassment. “I’m so sorry for Morgan’s behavior,” he apologized, making my blood boil. What kind of idiot is he? “I’ll make sure that this never happens again and I’m so-“

“Get out!” Tryce’s dad commanded, pointing a finger towards his front door as he interrupted my dad’s bullshit apology. “I can’t believe what you’ve turned into,” he said, slight disbelief colored his tone as his face clearly showed that he was repulsed. Tryce’s mother got up quietly, not saying a word as she retrieved their coats and handed them to them, leading them to the door and closing it softly once Patricia waddled down the stairs, spewing insults as they left.

Everyone turned towards me, eyes wide and I quickly got up, walking to the door as well, but was pulled back into Mister Reagan’s body. “I’m so sorry,” I apologized. “I really didn’t mean for that to happen.”

He just sighed and pulled me in for a hug. I hesitantly wrapped my arms around his body, not sure what to expect. “Just know that if you ever need to get away, you always got a place in our household,” he muttered. I nodded my head softly, burrowing my head in his chest as my arms wrapped around his body tighter.

That sounded like something a father would tell his son.

*

My head shot up when I heard a small knock on the door, the door opening to reveal Tryce. His father had taken me upstairs and offered me the guest room for the night, allowing me to be by myself. All the while, no one had said a word. They were probably all taken a back from my sudden outburst. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were appalled, but the last thing I expected was for Tryce’s dad to come to my rescue. He’s more of a dad to me then mine has ever been.

Tryce was in what I guessed was his pajama’s, holding out a pair of sweatpants for me which I took graciously. As I quickly unbuttoned my jeans and slid on the sweatpants, all in silence, I noticed that he was wearing basically an identical outfit except he has a wife beater on as well.

I sat back down on the guest bed, leaning back so that I was staring at the ceiling, just like I was before Tryce came in to give me sweatpants. I expected him to leave afterwards which is why I jumped when I felt the bed dip next to me, Tryce’s tan body lying itself down next to my pale one. If I wasn’t so pissed and embarrassed I probably would laugh at the quite noticeable difference in our skin tones.

“That was intense,” Tryce finally spoke, turning his head to face mine as I continued to glare daggers into the ceiling.

“I hate him,” I grumbled, speaking nothing but the truth. I have never felt such extreme levels of distaste for anyone besides my father and Patricia.

“You really can come here any time you want,” Tryce whispered reassuringly, patting my thigh with his hand before he placed it back on his well toned stomach. I just grunted, knowing that he would understand that that was my form of a thank you since I just wasn’t in the mood to talk.

The minutes ticked by as we lay side by side, lost in our own thoughts, though I really was just damning Patricia and my father to hell repeatedly. What else was I expected to do in a situation like this? The only calming factor about this entire situation was Tryce. The air around him was just always calm and I found it impossible to find a flaw in him. He was just so caring and his very presence calmed my nerves. We could be lying in a bed side by side, staring at the ceiling – like we are now – and I’d be perfectly content just because that’s what his very presence does to me.

And that’s why I wanted so badly to whine and beg for him not to leave when I felt the bed shift besides me, signifying that he was getting up to leave. “I just wanted to tell you that you’ve always got a place to come to if you need to get away,” he murmured. “I’ll leave you to your thoughts.”

I watched him get up, not wanting to beg him to stay and sound like a needy dumbass, but I noticed how he winced when he got up to stretch. “Your back still bugging you?” I questioned softly, catching his attention. Good going Morgan, that was a good way to get him to stay.

“Yeah, but I already told you that I’m going to get it fixed eventually,” he muttered, his eyebrow quirking.

“You know,” I said. “I’ve been told that I give a good back rub.” Okay, so maybe I sort of just devised a plan to be able to see Tryce’s amazing body shirtless and put my hands all over him. Sue me. It’s not like I’m a stranger to muscles because I certainly have some of my own, but I’m always attracted to other well-muscled people, and Tryce certainly seems to be a good looking boy. I doubt he’s attracted to other males, especially since he has such a bangin’ body, but that doesn’t mean I can enjoy his own body.

He lent forward, hands on the bed so he could stare me straight in the eye. “What do you want for it?” He questioned, trying to figure out the catch.

“Nothing,” I said sincerely.

He shook his head before looking up at me. “I’ll make a deal with you. You can give me a backrub if you will allow me to give you swimming lessons.”

“You’re benefitting from the back rub, but I’m not getting any benefit from the lessons since I don’t want them!” I said, sitting up and throwing my hands in the air.

“You’re learning how not to die,” he said seriously, stripping his shirt off before he lay down on the bed, looking at me as if to dare me not to take the offer. I feel as if he knows I’m attracted to him or something…

I grumbled but agreed nonetheless, my greediness at wanting to get my hands on his body getting the better of me. I tried not to pay attention to the way his muscles would ripple beneath mine when my hands would run over the tanned skin of his back. I tried not to pay attention to the way he would moan so quietly, almost delicately and thankfully, as I would work a knot out of his back. I tried not to pay attention to the fact that Tryce is perfect and has every single characteristic that I would ever want in a boyfriend.

It was all just so hard!

I love having Tryce as a friend. Hell, he’s a great friend and I’m glad that he’s no longer a figment of my past, but as I continue to get to know the beautiful man that my little Tee has grown to be, I want to be more then friends. Is that such a bad thing?